


The Spark in Your Eyes, the Look on Your Face

by RocketRabbits



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Brotp, Gen, Goodbyes, crossposted from ff.n, inspired by The Front Bottoms, romantic if you squint but thats not really the focus, the black ravens - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocketRabbits/pseuds/RocketRabbits
Summary: Marilyn is leaving. Crow says goodbye.





	

It is in the dark that she pads her way to his window on matted damp earth, her shaking hands rapping the wooden shutters loud enough to wake him. A groggy boy slips off his mattress on the floor and pulls his hat over his bedhead, not out of self-consciousness, but habit. He shuffles to the window and slides the glass up.

"Marilyn?" he asks incredulously, His usual dramatic accent suspiciously toned down. Marilyn doesn't call him on it. "What’s wrong?"

"Hey, Birdboy." she whispers, her smile bright but shaking as much as her hands are. She folds her arms on his window frame and rests her chin on her hands, praying she can pin down her anxiousness long enough to get this conversation over with. "Whatcha up to?"

"What am I-? Sleeping, Marilyn. Please tell me you aren't here just to shoot the breeze."

She laughs, and her smile isn't so tight. "Nah, sorry Crow. Your brain’s not that fun to pick. And I must admit, you’re not the first or last to see me tonight.”

Crow has the mind to be mock-offended. "Who else gets this pleasure, then? What's so urgent?"

"Went to see Louis first, of course, and next I'm going to stop at Wren and Socket's."

"That still doesn't explain why."

Marilyn heaves a deep sigh, closes her eyes, and lifts her head off of her crossed arms. Her fingertips grasp the window frame so tightly her knuckles pale. "I'm leaving, Crow. Shit is getting bad here and it’s been that way for too long and I have to fix it." her voice shakes, but it is as steady as she can make it.

"Is it your parents, Marilyn? Christ, stay here until they stop fighting. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"It's not just my parents. It's Misthallery. The adults are too- too- too something, Crow, to do anything. I can't keep letting this happen."

"I'm not sure I understand." It is too early for this. Or perhaps it is too late, it's all darkness and serenity to Crow, a reprieve of the stresses and harsh horrors the waking hours can bring. He's always struggled between sleeping and staying awake during the darkness, finding it ironic that what should scare him was often his only comfort. Sometimes, of course, the sleeplessness was not a choice- that had been increasing as of late.

Marilyn hasn't responded so he offers a hand and she takes it, but only to hoist herself onto the wood, her feet scraping softly against the bedroom wall, not touching the floor. She knows that if she touches the floor her feet will set permanent roots here. Not here to Crow, of course, but here where there are people who will pull her into their rooms at odd hours in the morning. She is scared of letting her determination falter under the offer of a familiar bed and sounds she has always fallen asleep to. She knows she cannot let her dirty, bare feet land firmly on the cold wooden floor. She knows she cannot let herself call Misthallery home anymore. Finally, she speaks. "Remember when I taught you to swim?"

"What? Yeah. Why?"

"You've been swimming just fine since then, Crow, but there are sharks in the water. Misthallery is falling apart and I can't let the Ravens go with it. This is where you all belong,” she falters, the ‘we’ still fresh on her tongue, “It’s home. We can't let it fall apart. So you guys have to stay here and maintain it so I-"

"Is this about money?" he interrupts, and he cannot see it because in the night her ink hair, tree bark skin and golden eyes all melt together, but he is sure she is glaring. She may have taught him how to swim, but he taught them all how to glare.

"Of course it's about money. I'm going to go find someplace to work and send money back to you all and please, Crow, keep them floating until then."

He is sure it is a trick of the moon, but he swears he sees her eyes glow. She is begging, and Marilyn never begs. She's never been in a position to. Begging is weakness, and in their line of work they cannot afford weakness.  
"What about the fruit stand?" he asks instead, because he knows he cannot stop her.

"That's what Louis was for. He's gonna watch it and my parents while I'm away. He promises Scraps will help, but I doubt it."

Crow has to laugh, and Marilyn joins in. "Are you sure I can't make you stay?" Crow asks, his throat scratching, threatening to choke.

"You're so strong, I'm so sick of seeing it. You say you're okay but your dead eyes and hollow cheeks betray you. I love you, but no way."

His lips form a tight smile, and he's glad that she's entering the streets practically having lived there. "I'll take care of them, then. Take care of yourself, okay?" he reaches around his neck for his ever-present scarf and, with very little thought, unwraps the worn cloth to drape it around hers.

“Oh, Crow, I couldn’t. Your mom’s, wasn’t it?”

Crow shrugs, and already his neck feels naked. He doesn’t look her in the eyes when he answers, “So bring it back when you can. This is a loan, and you know I don’t do charity.”

Marilyn grins and wraps it tighter around her neck. She pulls her knees to her chest and spins on the windowsill, dropping off and hitting the dirt with a finalizing, muted thump. She checks just once more to make sure her parting ‘loan’ is secure before she leans back through the window to give the rare hug- that she doesn't let him out of.

"I'm off," she says, finally, reaching down for the small sack at her feet and turning towards the street. "This isn't the last you'll hear from me."

He tries to yell something along the lines of a final "Take care, Marilyn," but all he can force out of his mouth is, "It better not be."

She's too far to answer, so he watches her go, walking determinedly to the other end of town where she will find the twins, and from the twins the bridge, and from the bridge, the parking lot. From there? Who could say. Crow looks after Marilyn until he can begin to see the morning fog settle over the nearest canal, the morning frogs beginning to croak and the bugs starting to buzz. As he crawls back into his own bed for what might be the extra hour of sleep, he prays without meaning to that wherever she ends up, she's still contributing to chaos.


End file.
